Veins Of Your History
by errantry
Summary: Dean is a student at Brown that yearns for a simpler life. He meets an art student in the city and it suddenly feels like he's found everything he's been searching for.


Every Sunday Dean would walk down to a bakery. Dimly lit, oak tables and chairs, just the place he liked. Sort of rustic and vintage. Sunday's meant waiting in line watching all people rush around him when he didn't have to, and taking the long route to his uncle's house. Sunday's meant time with his brother, Sammy, and the smell of apple pie. He moved away to study at Brown University. Not too far, but far enough to make his aunt and uncle, Bobby and Ellen, miss him like crazy. They had taken him and his little brother in when Dean just a boy, scared and shaken. Dean always said that it was like his mother was there right in front of him, gold hair gleaming in the sunlight, and in an instant she was gone. Fire took them both from him. He remembers a fireman coming into his room and taking him away from the bright flames. He remembers coughing, and his brother's cries. Oh, how Sammy cried. He still remembers to this day those cries. They ring in his ears sometimes, seems like they would echo through his apartment, and send pain to his head. Only happens when its quiet, open text books on his bed, then it would creep up on him. Suddenly. He would call Sammy the same day, he thought it was a warning, he thought maybe his brother was in trouble. He never was.

Sunday's also meant seeing the blue eyes of the man that took his order every week. Nametag read _Cas. _He would look up, see Dean, and smile. A broad smile that distorted his features and made him seem youthful. Cas always remembered how Dean liked his coffee, every week he'd get it right. He took a long time making it, too, slow and steady. Getting it just right. While other customers huffed and tapped their feet behind him, Dean would watch how Cas' shoulder blades moved beneath his fitted white button up. Studied the veins that ran up his arms, how his slim fingers delicately tied the string around the pie box. This Sunday, somehow, felt different. Cas had something different in his eyes, pursuit maybe. When he handed Dean his coffee his fingers lingered against Dean's just long enough for him to take notice. Today, Cas only charged him for the pie.

It was a Tuesday. Dean didn't like Tuesday's. Two lectures back to back, plus an evening class, and he had work early the next day. He was tired, but he rushed past pedestrians, wondering why he chose to walk to the lecture hall. He saw a familiar mess of black hair walking a few feet in front of him He was sure it was him, stubble lining his jaw and cheeks. Dean knew by the way he moved, so effortlessly. Almost like a dancer. Then he saw Cas, not so gracefully, stumble and drop the contents of his bag onto the ground. _Opportunity, _Dean's brain told him. He ran over, bent down and picked up a worn sketch pad, a text book and two notebooks.

"Thanks, today is just not my day," Cas kept his head down, rushing to pick up pens, and shoving notebooks into his shoulder bag. When he looked up a grin lit up his face. "It's you! You come into the store all the time! Dean, right?"

"Yes, I knew you looked familiar."

"I'm Castiel." He grabbed Dean's hand from his side and shook it firmly. "Let's walk together, we seem to be headed in the same direction." He started walking and Dean quickly fell into step next to him, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that told him he had a lecture to get to. Screw the professor, hell, screw his GPA, the man he has been swooning over for five months was bumping shoulders with him. His hands were _just barely _brushing against Dean's as they walked. Dean wasn't going to pass this up.

"Do you go to RISD?"

"I'm at Brown, actually," Dean said, passing a glance at Cas.

"What's you major?"

"English. I want to teach."

"That's awesome! I just transferred to RISD from Boston. I've been confused, you know, hence the dropping of all my crap. I haven't had time to adjust, with work and classes. You know how it goes. I haven't gotten to see the city, which is a shame. Sorry I'm talking too much. I'm nervous and you're cute," Cas laughed anxiously and his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. They approached Dean's lecture hall much too quickly. Cas quickly thanked Dean and hurried off down the street.

A pie sat on the passenger seat, Dean sipped his coffee and hummed to a tune that played from the tape deck. The windows of his inherited Impala were rolled down, warm September air washing over his face and he inhaled. Inhaled the scent of the trees, the clean air filled his lungs and relaxed his shoulders. He drove through his old town and down the long, winding road to his uncle's. After he cut the engine he would always stop and stare to see if anything had changed over the week. Unless Ellen had decorated for a holiday, it never changed. He held the pie in his hand, hinges on the car door squeaking as it closed, and he walked across the wide porch to the screen door. That feeling he always got when he walked in washed over him. An odd sensation would always fill his chest and make his eyes tear. Ellen hummed in the kitchen, that always reminded him of his Mama. How she would bake, gently swaying and humming a tune. Sometimes, when Dean was little, he would creep downstairs after hearing his father come home after a long day. He would find them in the middle of the kitchen, her sweet humming, and them both swaying together. That's the fondest memory he has of the two. Dean's surprised he even remembers it, and as he stands there and listens to Ellen hum, it's like he's seeing them again, slow dancing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Hi, Aunt Ellen," Dean says and kisses her cheek.

"Put the pie down, dear. Here, put these on the table." She handed him a serving platter overflowing with potatoes and greens. "Call your brother, too, sweetie."

"Sammy!" Dean called up the stairs and went back to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea, he began filling the glasses around the table. Just like that he was thrown into reminiscence once again. He thought of when they were young, his parents would take them on picnics. Mama would fill mason jars with peach iced tea for them. He remembers how she liked strawberries and how Papa liked blueberries. He remembers how his parents fit together. It wasn't a perfect marriage but it was love. And that's all that counts.

"Hey, Dean," his cousin, Jo, walked around him and peeked into the pie box. "Apple again?" she whined.

"I'll get something different next week. Promise." They both sat down, Sam walked in, smiling. Happy to see his older brother.

"Hey, Sammy. How's school?"

"Fine, how's your classes?"

"Long. Snore inducing." His aunt and uncle sat down and they all began eating. It was quiet and calm. Warm breeze coming in through the screen door, it was a perfect Sunday night.

"So, kid, how's the city?" Bobby asked.

"The same, not much has changed since you asked last week,"Dean said with a smirk.

"Did you meet anyone new?" Ellen asked.

"Can my love life not be the topic of conversations this evening?"

"_Again,_" Sam mumbled.

"Okay, fine. I _may_ have met someone."

"What's his name?" said Ellen.

"Is he cute?" Jo asked.

Dean blushed. "His name is Castiel and yes, he is very cute. He's a RISD student." Sam stood up and began clearing the plates from the table.

"Have you guys kissed?" Jo asked, moving closer to Dean.

"Jo!" Sam rolled his eyes and threw a dish rag at her. The family moved into the living room.

"No, we haven't kissed." Jo frowned and put a movie into the DVD player. They ate their pie and watched the movie. Just like every Sunday, they all stood on the porch and waved as Dean drove off back to the city. He caught a glimpse of the large porch in the rear-view mirror just as he turned the corner. When he drove onto the ramp for the highway, his mind drifted. He remembers the house. It had an open porch just like Bobby's. There were two rocking chairs that squeaked when you sat in them, Mama would sit outside on cool summer nights. A cup of tea sat on the wooden railing of the porch, Dean remembers walking outside, and watching the steam rise from the rim of the mug. When Mama would see him, she'd motion him over and he would climb up on her lap. She would rock back and forth, Papa would sometimes come home early, loud footsteps on the wooden porch.

"Hi," he would say, his voice low and deep. He would kiss both their foreheads and rub Mama's tummy gently, because baby Sammy was in there. He would lean his head back against the other rocking chair, eyes looking out over the dark front yard. Then, Mama would open her favorite book of poems and begin reading. Dean remembers watching his Papa's eyes drift shut, his body easing with each word his mother recited.

Now, Dean found himself in front of the bakery, cutting the engine and stepping out. He saw Cas through the large window. He walked into the shop. It was like Dean was drawn to him. Like nothing else mattered. He had to know him. Just had to. The bell tolled above the door and Cas looked up.

"Dean. What can I get you this evening?" Dean just stood, unprepared. He lost himself in the blue of Castiel's eyes for a moment.

"Peach iced tea, please." Dean broke away from Cas' gaze and fished his wallet out of his back pocket. There was a worn paperback lying on the counter, the spine creased and worn.

"John Keats," Dean said aloud.

"You know him?" Cas set down the tea and looked at Dean, who was cradling the book in his hands.

"My...my mother, she used to read his poems to me. Its strange..I was just thinking about that." Dean's eyes flickered back to Castiel's. He felt the overwhelming urge to cry, to fall to his knees and break apart in two. The tightening in his chest was all too familiar. He cleared his throat. "How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it." Dean placed the book down carefully, nodding his head and turning to leave. He got half way to the door and turned back. Castiel's eyes were still locked on him. "Do you want to go to dinner with me?"

"Dinner?" Castiel eyed him quizzically. "That would be absolutely wonderful, Dean."

"I'll pick you up here on Friday. Is six good?"

"Perfect." Cas watched Dean walk out of the shop and climb into his car. Dean looked back at him through the window, his eyes were teary, but he was smiling.

Cas was waiting. Warm breeze whipping around him, sun shining down against the buildings. He saw the familiar black Impala come down the street. Dean was nervous, when Cas opened the door and slid into the set. He looked _good. _Dean eyed how Cas' jeans hugged his thighs, the way his sleeves were rolled up showing his tan skin. Dean drove them to an Italian restaurant a town over. Cas had that grin on his face when Dean ran around the car to open the door for him. The place was small, various photos lined the walls. Dean ordered wine, they talked. About school, how Castiel was a graphic design major, how long and boring their lecture halls were, how slow some of their professors spoke. They talked about the city, how it was just small enough to suit the both of them. They shared a love of country life, they both wanted to pursue a simpler way of living after they got their degrees. When their food same they ate in silence. Dean watched Cas' lips wrap around his fork then watched him take his last sip of wine. Cas leaned back and stretched, satisfied.

"That was really good. First real meal I've had in months," Cas told him as they got back into the car.

"Glad you enjoyed it. Good first date?" Dean asked starting the engine.

"Great first date. Except the part when you didn't let me pay," Cas teased.

"What can I say? I'm a gentleman." As he pulled out of the parking lot, he felt Castiel's fingers curl around the collar of his shirt and smooth it down. Cas scooted down and rested his head back against the seat. In the quiet of the car, he began humming. Soft and low. When Dean looked over, Cas had his eyes on him. They smiled at each other. Cas reached his hand out to Dean's, their fingers interlaced. The rain started falling, tapping rhythmically against the windshield. Castiel's grip tightened and Dean took the long way back to the bakery.

A week went by and Dean consistently fought the urge to visit him in the bakery. He would purposefully walk by before his classes, peeking through the window, watching Castiel fill orders. Dean just missed Cas' smile, he couldn't wait until the next Sunday to see it again. He invited Castiel out for one of Providence's summer traditions. Dean navigated them through crowds of people to a lemonade stand. Then they walked over a bridge that overlooked the Providence River, and they stopped. The sun had just set over the skyline, they watched the boats come down the river and set ablaze the bonfires that lay atop the water.

"This is so cool," Cas marveled as they walked beside the river and through crowds of people. People all around them were selling glow sticks, one person was selling roses. Dean took it upon himself to buy one, and he extended it towards Cas, who smiled and took it. Their pace was very slow, they walked away from the river and the chaos, toward Castiel's dorm, their fingers laced together. When they got there, they stood facing each other, Dean slowly leaning in.

"I have to tell you something, Dean." Castiel went on to tell him about his past. He was an artist, a good artist. His parents wanted him to go to a good school and make them proud. Wanted him to be something. Castiel had come out to his parents and family after he graduated high school, they didn't take it well. They won't speak to him. It's as if he doesn't exist, like he never was a part of that family. He moved away fast for school, to Boston. To start over. He met a guy, moved in with him, everything was fine. "I was happy. After all that with my parents, I felt like I really had something with this man. I was wrong. I was so wrong." Castiel blinked away tears as his mind flashed back to when his so called lover beat him to the ground, repeatedly kicked him in the stomach, and left him bleeding on the floor of their apartment. "It was all verbal at first. Then he would retaliate with, 'baby, I didn't mean it'. He made me feel like I was the one, but then the beatings started. He threatened me if I would try to leave." Castiel got out and started another life here. "So, I need to take it slow." Dean never took his eyes off of Cas. They stood in silence for a long time before Dean opened his arms. Dean saw Cas flinch before he wrapped his arms around him tight. They stood there embracing one another for a long time, then broke away and Castiel walked into his dorm.

"I just don't know why anyone would ever want to hurt him," Dean said during Sunday dinner the next night.

"People are stupid. They take all their pain and hurt out on others because they can't deal with it," Sam said.

"And then they say, 'no, I love you, I'm sorry', because they can't deal with their crippling loneliness," Jo added.

"Idgits," Bobby said pouring more iced tea into his glass. "Where is this boy's family?"

"Maine. They kicked him out after he told them he was gay. He told me it's like he was never part of that family. They don't even speak to him."

"You invite that poor boy over for dinner. He needs to be around some good genuine people."

Castiel followed Dean up to the porch, he held a pie in one hand, and gripped Dean's in the other. "We're late. I'm nervous. Do I look okay?"

"You look fine." Everyone waited in the living room for them. They both walked in, Cas looking like a deer in the headlights. After the initial anxiety, Cas eased fairly quickly. They made him feel at home, treated him just the same as every body else. He realized that being around a family, and a dinner table, that he had missed it. Family dinners. Everyone happy and laughing. After dinner Castiel insisted on helping Ellen with the dishes.

"Dean tells me you're an artist," Ellen said.

"Yes," Cas said quietly, looking down.

"Tell me what's on your mind, sweetie." Ellen had this, kind of, sixth sense when it comes to weeding out people's feelings. She reads between the lines almost too well. She always knows when you want to speak of something, but are too afraid to. It's kind of how she kept her marriage alive all these years.

"I'm only going to art school to please my parents. They wanted me to become a young Picasso or something. I feel like I'm just wasting my time and money on a hopeless cause."

"Honey, you shouldn't be doing something you're not passionate about. You're young, you need to thrive for something. You have to live for yourself, dear. What do you really want to do?"

"I want to live in the country. Own a store that sells homemade bread and preserves. I want an orchard and a farm. After everything. The pain, the beatings, the banishment. I just want simplicity." After talking with Ellen, Cas walked out onto the back porch and found Dean. He was standing against the railing looking out across the yard, a cup of tea was balanced on the ledge.

"Hi," Cas said softly and stood next to him. They stood in silence, breathing in the cool October air. "We should go to the zoo."

"The zoo?" Dean turned to look at him.

"Yeah, the zoo. I saw an advertisement for the jack o lantern path they're doing. It could be nice." Dean nodded, they stared at each other. Then Dean leaned in. Cas didn't move away this time. It was quick, just a sweet press of lips that left them both satisfied. Castiel was nodding off on the drive back to the city, they went to Dean's apartment for tea. Dean excused himself to the bathroom and when he returned he found Cas sleeping. Dean picked him up and carried him to his bed, he covered him with a red blanket. Then he situated himself on the couch and fell fast asleep.

Cas woke the next morning in Dean's bed. A sticky note was attached to his arm. _Early class. Help yourself to anything._ Castiel walked around the apartment. Dean had tall bookshelves in his small living room, filled up. A tiny kitchen and a small round dining table. He had a box filled with tapes beside the couch, all oldies. In his bedroom, there was a book of poems on his bedside table. Castiel picked it up and flipped through it, a worn photo fell out of it and onto the floor. He picked it up, it was of a woman with golden hair near a Christmas tree. The back said, _Christmas 1985. _It was taken a year before the fire. Sammy was just three. Dean remembers the stacks of gifts they found in the morning. He remembers his father sitting next to the tree passing them presents, and Sam's giggle. Castiel put the photo back into the paperback when he heard the door close.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," Castiel said.

"Anytime." Dean put his bag down and opened the fridge. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm fine, Dean. The pictures you have of your parents here are really sweet."

"Thanks."

"What were they like?"

"My father worked in a mill. He worked hard, worked long days. Sometimes he would find me sleeping on the couch, I would try to stay up and wait for him, and he would carry me and put me to bed. He always smelled like wood chips. My mother...she was beautiful." Dean felt that familiar urge to cry. "She baked and cooked, she was a good mother. I still remember how she smelled. Like cherry blossoms. Her voice was soft and sweet." Dean stopped. He was leaning against the counter, looking at his hands. Then tears started falling from his eyes. "I have to be strong, you know, for Sammy. Have to keep my game face on, can't let him see me break. Everywhere I go, Cas, reminds me of them." Castiel moved toward him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Dean tightened his arms around Castiel's waist, and pressed his face against his shoulder. Dean held tight onto Cas as sobs shook through his body. The whole world seemed to fall away. It was just them. Just this moment. When Dean lifted his head, Cas wiped away his tears.

"Thank you for being here," Dean said. Castiel leaned in, pressed his lips to Dean's, tentative at first. Dean brought a hand up to Cas' neck and pulled him in deeper, Cas' hands move down to rest against Dean's chest. Their lips move together perfectly. It's sweet and hot at the same time. When they break apart they both feel a sense of tranquility. Cas rests his forehead against Dean's, breathing deeply.

"I'll never hurt you," Dean whispers.

Dean opened a bag of popcorn, hot steam hitting his face. He poured it into a large plastic bowl. Then walked back to the couch, and nestled down next to Cas. He wrapped his favorite red blanket around them and balanced the bowl on his knees. That blanket held a lot of memories, he'd had it since he was a kid. Besides Sammy, it was the one thing the fire didn't take. Candles were lit on the coffee table, their scents mixing with the smell of popcorn. Cas scooted down to rest his head on Dean's shoulder as the opening titles of _Big Fish _appeared on the screen. They watched intently in silence, and one of Dean's favorite scenes came on. It reminds him of summer days. Mama would hang laundry on a clothesline in the backyard, sun shining down, making her golden hair glow. Dean would sit on the grass and play with Sammy. He remembers squinting up and watching her hang sheets on the line. She would look down at him, smile or pull a funny face to make him giggle.

Castiel's phone buzzed loudly on the table. He picked it up, then retreated to the bathroom. He was gone a long time, so long, in fact, that the movie ended and Dean blew out the candles. The door opened slowly and Cas stepped out, clicking off the light. He was wiping away tears.

"What's wrong?" Dean quickly got up and cupped his face.

"That was my brother, Gabriel." Castiel hasn't talked to him in three years. They had a strong bond before Castiel moved away, it pained Gabriel that they hadn't spoken. On the phone, he told Castiel that he didn't care about Cas' lifestyle. Told him that after he had moved out his siblings began disconnecting from their parents and each other. Balthazar had moved to Paris. Michael, who was going to join the priesthood per his parent's request, moved to California. Anna had moved along with Gabriel to Connecticut. He opened a bakery in a small town there, Anna was a writer. What Castiel didn't tell Dean was that Gabriel had told him about a large house that was passed down in the family. Along with the property was a farm, and an orchard. Gabriel told him that the place was waiting for him when the right time came.

It was Halloween. They had just finished watching a horror movie and picking at a bowl of candy. They pulled on their coats and walked to the zoo that night. Jack o' lanterns lined the path they walked on. They both sipped on pumpkin lattes and walked hand in hand. It was perfect and simple in Dean's eyes.

They spent almost all of their time together. Cas would come over after work and they would watch a movie, sharing warmth under a blanket. They would study together and read together. Sometimes Dean would wake up to the smell of pancakes and brewed coffee. Cas would be sitting at the table waiting for him. Gabriel came down for Thanksgiving that year, they all went out to dinner, Cas had tears in his eyes when he saw him.

It was two weeks into December, Dean was rummaging through boxes in Ellen's attic one Sunday evening. In search of his parents old Polaroid camera. It was in a dusty box with one of his father's old sweaters. Dean swore he could almost smell the lingering scent of wood chips on it. He took it with him along with the camera, and an old journal. When he drove home, he pulled into a clearing. The sun was beginning to set, Dean sat on the hood of his car and opened the journal to an entry.

_Came home tonight to Dean helping Mary bake brownies. He had chocolate all over his hands and on his face. Mary was laughing. Sammy was in his high chair, poor kid was covered in flour. He was looking right at Dean and laughing along with Mary. I wish I caught it on film._

Dean flipped to another.

_Mary and I took the boys on a picnic. We brought them into the woods. Dean loves the woods, loves to try climb the tallest trees. The best thing that happened today was when a rabbit ran by, and Sammy giggled and clapped. I love that boy's laugh._

He continued reading until his phone rang and he got back in the car, ignoring the tightening in his chest.

"Babe, the mall is crazy. Christmas makes people nuts," Castiel said. "I got some stuff for the tree." Dean pulled up to the curb in front of the mall, Castiel had his arms full of bags, which he piled into the back seat.

"What the hell did you buy?" Dean eyed the bags.

"Some lights. Ornaments. A ton of coffee and tea for Ellen. Couple books for Bobby. A nice pair of shoes for Sam, he can wear them when he graduates, if he wants, and a dress for Jo."

"Nothing for me?"

"Nope, nothing."

"You're a bad liar."

"I know." When they got home they put up the Christmas tree. Castiel carefully put red ornaments on the branches, Dean fished an old Santa hat and put it on. He got up and made hot chocolate for them both and they sat on the floor wrapping presents. Dean watched Castiel wrap his last gift, the lights of the tree twinkling behind him.

"I love you, Cas," he said, scooting closer and putting on arm around Castiel's shoulders.

"I love you more."

On Christmas morning they opened their present in their pajamas. Dean bought Cas a new record player and Cas got Dean a sweater that looked exactly like the one he found of his father's. Before they left Ellen's, Dean had Cas stand next to the tree, and Dean took a picture of him. At the end of the night, Sam and Dean sat on the hood of the Impala.

"Merry Christmas, Sammy." Dean passed him the old journal. "It was dad's." Sam didn't say anything just nodded a silent thank you. Cas and Dean drove back to the city, the family waving to them in the rear-view mirror.

It was May, they were both close to graduating. They were out in a clearing, the back of Bobby's pick up truck was lined with pillows and soft blankets. A picnic basket was open next to them. They ate strawberries and laughed, sipped on mason jars filled with peach iced tea. It was the perfect night. The dark sky twinkled with stars, the moon was full and bright. They lied down and looked up, listening to each other's breathing. Castiel held Dean's hand in both of his.

"Marry me, Dean Winchester." Dean paused, then crushed their mouths together in a passionate kiss. He hugged Cas, his head pressing down onto his shoulder. The world slipped away then. That was fine. Dean didn't need anything else. Castiel was his entire world.

By July they moved into the old Connecticut house. It was perfect. Large wrap around porch, wide kitchen with big windows. It was everything they dreamed. They settled in, Castiel stocking the kitchen with mugs and plates, Dean hung photos on a wall in the living room. He began work on the orchard and the farm. They were soon full up on apples and every other kind of fruit you can imagine. Gabriel helped them open a store where their produce could be sold. It was their ideal life.

Dean came in one night from a long day. He was sore, and when he walked into the kitchen he found Castiel sitting waiting for him. The needle of the turntable spun a record around. Dean put his hand out and Cas stood. He rested his head on Dean's shoulder. They moved slowly in the middle of the kitchen to the music. They stayed like that long after the record player had gone quiet.

Castiel sat on the porch in a rocking chair. Their daughter, Virginia, was sitting on his lap. She was five, and her one year old brother, Benedict, was fast asleep in the house. Castiel was reading aloud from a paperback when the loud engine of Dean's pick up flooded through his senses. He walked up and sat down next to Cas. Castiel continued reading as Dean stroked his thumb over the back of his hand. Virginia fell asleep against her Papa's chest, Dean scooped her up and they both tucked her in. He went into Ben's room and kissed his forehead. Then he retreated to bed. To Castiel's arms. Content, and fully prepared to do it all again tomorrow.

"Charles, pour the iced tea for Papa, won't you?" Charles was ten, the youngest of their children. He was wanted to be farmer like his daddy. Castiel cooked dinner as he poured iced tea into cups around the dining table. Benedict came down the stairs to help set the table. "Did you do your homework?" Castiel asked.

"Yes, Papa, I did," he slid into one of the chairs after setting down the last plate. Castiel started serving portions on each plate, then he heard the sound of boots on the hard wood. The porch door closed and Dean walked in, dragging the scent of hay in with him. He kissed Cas on the cheek and sat at the head of the table. The door opened again and Virginia walked in.

"Hey, everyone. I'd like you all to meet Andy."

"Hello, dear. Have a seat." Cas took the pie box from her hands and pulled one of the chairs out for her to sit. Dean looked around the table at his family. Virginia, how grown up she is, with her deep blue eyes and dark hair. She was in her last year of college, she wanted to be a teacher. She drove back every weekend to have dinner. Benedict, lord, did he look like Cas. Same nose, same eyes, and same mess of dark hair. He would be off to art school next fall, his paintings were hung all over the house. Charles how big he'd gotten. Seemed like he was a baby just yesterday. All that kid talked about was wanted to grow up to be like his daddy. His favorite day was Saturday, when he would pick apples in the orchard with Dean.

Dean could feel his age, now. His hands were calloused from hard work. But that was okay. None of it mattered. As long as he got to come home very night to Castiel. As long as he got to wake up to Castiel's grin and his blue eyes. As long as he had his family. And looking around the table now, he realized this is all he needed, these Sunday night dinners.

Dean liked Sunday's.


End file.
